


Why Did You Stay Ficlets

by CharlotteAshmore



Series: Why Did You Stay Verse [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:42:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3400541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets inspired by Why Did You Stay. Ratings will vary depending on the prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And She Waited

**Author's Note:**

> AquaJasmine23 prompted: WDYS verse, He Misses Her, Belle’s POV. Oh boy! More Angst!

The mirror was cold and dark.  It always was when  _she_ came to visit.  Belle refused to call forth the image of her beloved when  _she_ appeared to gawk at her prey.   _That was a rather nice way to put it_ , she thought acidly as the burning wounds on her back flared with a fresh wave of pain as she was pressed into the stone wall.

“What does he plan to do with this curse he’s created?  When will it be unleashed?  What will it do to our realm?”

Belle’s cold laughter echoed through the ancient chamber.  “I’ll never betray my husband,” she insisted, her lips curled back from her teeth in a snarl.  Already she could feel the burning recede as her skin knit back together despite the icy chill of fairy magic that clung to her flesh.  It made her stomach churn with nausea and every inch of her body itch.  Rumpelstiltskin’s dark blood residing in her veins did not mix well with the sticky goodness that pervaded the fairy.

Her eyes flicked over Rheul Ghorm’s shoulder to the darkened mirror hanging upon the wall, her only means of being able to see her love.  Sometimes it was more torture than comfort, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything…except maybe her freedom.  But there was only one way to secure that, and she would never turn away from her dark sorcerer, never renounce her love for him, never willingly turn her back on him.

Even now she burned with the need to have him hold her in his arms.  It was a painful ache in her blood, her bones, her very _soul_ , to be separated from him.  The magic, his magic, which coursed through her yearned to be joined with its master, and every moment she was away from him, she was forced to endure the minute stinging pain just beneath her skin.

And so she waited.

Belle pushed away from the wall, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest as she raised her stubborn chin and stared obstinately at the ruler of the fairies.  The tinkling lilt of Rhuel Ghorm’s falsely sympathetic tones were enough to make Belle cover her mouth in revulsion to hold onto the contents of her stomach.

“Belle, dear, there really is no need for all the pain.  Simply tell me what I want to know and I may very well let you go,” the blue fairy said with a gentle smile.

She recoiled as another wave of fairy magic assailed her, and she dropped uselessly back against her cot in the center of the room, unable to move.  The dark magic in her veins throbbed painfully through her, fighting to return mobility to her painful limbs.  All to no avail.  It needed to stop…now.  She didn’t want to linger in the throes of agony for half a day and miss out on using her mirror.  She turned her gaze to the beveled glass and swallowed with some difficulty around the lump that seemed to be permanently lodged there in her efforts to hold her tears at bay.

Apparently the little insect was ready to attempt to remove the golden bracelets from her captive, Belle thought bitterly.  Once a week, the fairy tried to remove Rumpelstiltskin’s gift and once a week, she failed miserably…most times causing herself some damage in the process.  Rheul Ghorm might be blessed by the gods and twice as old as the Dark One, but she was still no match for his power.

Belle held out her arms, unable to fight the compulsion and steeled herself for more pain as the fairy withdrew her wand and began to chant over the gleaming gold bands encircling Belle’s wrists.

And she waited.

Her voice was as soft as rose petals as she spoke.  “Did you know that my Rumpel loves peach tarts?  Or that he has a soft spot for children?” She asked, taking great satisfaction in the way Rheul Ghorm’s fingers tightened about her wand.  “No one in the known realms would fear him if they could see how his eyes light with pleasure when I read to him in the evenings after supper.  They would be aghast to see how he will lay a single finger aside my face in just a ghost of a caress, as if he feels unworthy to touch me.  He’s so gentle…”

The fairy gnashed her teeth together and doubled her efforts.  “Enough lies, princess.  It seems his influence is more deeply imbedded in you than I’d originally believed.”

Belle bit into her lip, her back bowing as another wave of pure fire swept through her veins.  “He’s tender and good and loves more deeply than someone as unfeeling as you could ever comprehend.  You will never break me.  You will never bend me.  Do your worst, bug, but you will never make me stop loving him.”

The Dark One’s wife channeled every ounce of magic she possessed in her tiny frame into the golden cuffs encircling her wrists to repel her tormentor. A slow smile curved her lips as the fairy was blasted off her feet, her own magic rebounding to send her flying back through the magical barrier that kept Belle a prisoner in the tower room.  Her head rolled on the rough-hewn blanket, so weak she was unable to lift it.  A mere breath of a laugh escaped her lips as she noticed the singed tendrils of ginger hair laying lank against the fairy’s brow and the small wisps of smoke curling from them.  Another small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“See you next week, bug,” she spat, using all her strength to turn on her side and gaze longingly at the mirror.  Only when she’d heard the small pop of Rhuel teleporting away from the fortress did she allow the tears to spill over her lashes.

And she waited.

She didn’t cry for the vicious roiling of nausea in her stomach, nor did she cry for the stinging ache just beneath her skin which was a constant companion.  She didn’t cry for the abuse she suffered at the hands of such a ‘benevolent’ being, either.  No, she was brave, she was strong, she would endure. Only one thing fueled her…to be reunited with her husband.  Nothing mattered more to her than finding a way back into his arms.

She dragged herself off the cot, cursing softly as her legs gave out beneath her.  Yet, there was nothing to stop her from achieving her goal as she crawled across the rough stone floor, the uneven surface biting painfully into her flesh and tearing open the skin of her knees or cutting into her palms.  It would be worth it for one glimpse of her love.  Rhuel was gone, not expected back for another week.  She could have all the time in between to watch Rumpelstiltskin.  And watch him she would.

“Show me Rumpelstiltskin,” she commanded, biting her lip with impatience as the surface of the mirror swirled and frothed before finally coalescing into the image of her husband.

She jerked back with a start as flames leapt along the surface, the image slowly showing his slumped form on his knees before the hearth  Her heart died a slow death as she took in his heartbroken features, his weathered cheeks stained with tears, her chipped cup clasped tightly in his clawed hand as he held it to his chest.  The pain of loss wreathed his entire body, his posture that of someone who’d lost all hope.

“No, no, no,” she wailed, her head shaking violently back and forth as she screamed her denial.  “No, darling, I’m right here.  Don’t lose faith in us, Rum.”  Tears coursed down her ashen cheeks as she pressed her palms against the glass, wishing more than anything that she would reach through the shimmering surface and cradle his face in her hands.  Wished desperately that she could whisper tender reassurances of her love in his ear.

“Oh, Belle, I miss you so much,” he cried softly, his face screwed up in an expression of abject misery that tore through her chest as easily as a knife would slide through butter.  She’d promised never to leave him, never to abandon him as so many others had.  She’d vowed to stay by his side…forever…and because of the well-intentioned machinations of that flying jellyfish, she’d had to break her word.

“I love you, Rumpel.  Please don’t give up,” she whispered brokenly, pressing her brow to the mirror’s cool surface.  “Don’t give up, my love.  I’ll wait for you, just don’t give up.”

And she waited.

 


	2. He Misses Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt from AquaJasmine23:
> 
> WDYS verse- I want to (and am scared to) see Rumpel in the aftermath of (however temporarily) losing Belle in the EF. I can see him sitting in their room clutching something that smells like her (pillow, clothing, something) to his chest and trying not to cry and also desperately hoping and thinking himself stupid for it because while he can’t bring himself to believe that she might be dead he also kinda hates himself for having that much hope. Because, ya know, he’s an angsty woobie, and why not get used to the angst now? Oh, right, and also why he misses her. Why it isn’t just terror that she might be hurt, or bc he loves her. Simple things, like how she’d always spend an hour or so drinking tea with him in the afternoon or snuggling on a sofa somewhere or something. Seeing as this is post-marriage (and post-kidnapping) it could be anything. Have fun!
> 
> What is it with you and angst? Are you trying to make me cry at three in the morning? Ok, you asked for it!

**_I see you, Rumpel.  I see your heart and there’s not a single part of you I don’t love…_ **

He closed his eyes, no longer the warm amber so filled with love that she would spend hours gazing into, but a deep soulless black which so roiled with rage and despair many would turn away in fear, praying to escape his notice.  The Dark Castle was no longer a place of warmth and comfort, but had reverted to the cold, uninviting chasm of magic and loneliness it had been before his precious Belle had come to stay.  No longer were there cheery fires and afternoon tea.  No longer was Rumpelstiltskin able to indulge in her softly spoken voice as she would read by the hearth.  No longer could he even look upon a ripe peach without his chest seizing in pain.

His light, his hope…gone.

His gaze took in the cold marble floor, the dusty pillars and the panoramic view from the balcony with its beauty and grace.  It was more pain, more anguish for his tortured soul, for all he could see was his beauty, standing proudly before him in a dress of white, his own gold dusting her skin as she tearfully spoke her vows.

**_Why did you stay?_ **

**_Because I love you, Rumpelstiltskin._ **

A whimper sounded low in his throat before he could quell it, and he gnashed his teeth together in the dark and silent ballroom.  How was he supposed to go on without her?  Now that he had tasted happiness on his tongue, had felt her love flow into his very soul?  Every room in his home taunted him with her memory, mocked him with her presence.  He could hear her laughter, and see her sweet smiles.

**_Cobbler?_ **

**_I know it’s your favorite, darling, and the peaches were ripe._ **

Her scent still lingered in the castle…peaches, roses…never quite strong enough to mask her own sweet and spicy aroma.  It was sweeter than the most fragrant bloom and more precious than gold.  He couldn’t sleep in his bed without the nightmares there to plague him.  His Belle was no longer there to wrap herself around him and chase them away.  He couldn’t spin in the Great Hall without her comforting presence there on the settee.  No longer could he look up from his wheel and catch her smile as she read of the next great adventure, or see her tears as the prince woke his true love from an enchanted sleep.  And God forbid should he step foot in her library.  Long hours of reading together, memories of making love on her favorite chaise, whispered words of devotion falling so earnestly from her sweet lips…gone.  Now there was only loss and grief and pain.

Forty one days…had it really only been so short a time?  It felt more like a century.  A hundred years of agony, of pain, of the deepest despair.

**_I will love you until my dying breath, and I promise you every day of forever._ **

Her vows on their wedding day.  Her _vow!_   Lies!

The pillar to his right cracked with a thunderous peal as his magic crackled at his fingertips.  What did he care if the castle crumbled to dust around him?  He no longer had his love to share it with.  It was no longer a home, but just a museum to house his many trinkets.  He reeled the beast back with great effort. 

 _Not her fault, not her fault, not her fault._  It repeated in a litany in his mind as a tear slowly forced its way past his lids.

Where could she be?

**_You have more courage than you think, my love._ **

He would brave anything for her.  Yet how could he slay her dragons if he couldn’t find the beast’s lair?  He moved farther into the cavernous room, the painted ceiling with its cherubs a mere shadow in the moonlight filtering in through the french doors.  If he could see their angelic faces, surely they would mock him too.  He could almost hear their whispers…

 _You’ve failed her.  She loved you and you failed her._  

A ragged sob tore from his throat as his knees gave out from beneath him.  “I’m so sorry, my love.”

Why couldn’t he find her?  He’d search the realm a hundred times over and found no trace of her.  Why?  He rocked back and forth as he wrapped his arms about his knees.  “Where are you, Belle?”

**_I’m here, darling.  I love you._ **

A whisper of wind, the melodic tones of her voice.  If he concentrated hard enough, it almost felt as if she were whispering in his ear.  He buried his face against his knees and sobbed.  He cried out his anguish there in the same room he’d promised to love her forever.  He sobbed for her strength, her light, her blind faith in him that he could be more than his curse.  He wailed for her love, her heart, her beauty.  He poured out his never ending pain for the loss of her touch, her smile, her kiss. “I miss you, my darling Belle.  I **_will_ ** find you.”

Gods, how he misses her…


	3. Belle Meets the Hatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aquajasmine23 said:
> 
> WDYS verse: Belle and Jeffy's first meeting?

“How could you be so stupid?!” the Dark One raged as he paced back and forth across the vast length of the library.

 

“But—“

 

“I don’t want to hear excuses, man!” he said, bending low over his worktable, his palms flat against the scratched surface as he shook his head.

 

Jefferson grimaced as Rumpelstiltskin continued to expound on his many mistakes.  “You said you could get it back though, right?” he asked hopefully.

 

Belle’s brow furrowed as she continued up the staircase leading into the library, a tea service clasped tightly in her hands.  For a moment she wondered if her cantankerous master would want her to disturb his meeting.  He’d yelled at her yesterday when she’d been three minutes late with his afternoon tea, so that left her little choice.  She’d only been his caretaker for a month or so and she was still trying to remember all of his dictates, punctuality being one of them and tea being another.

 

“Why did you even let her get close enough to snatch it?” Rumpelstiltskin snarled, glowering darkly at the one man in the Enchanted Forest he could call friend.  “What’s Gracie going to say when you come home without a heart?!  Did you never stop to consider her!?!”

 

Jefferson’s mouth pressed into a thin line.  “Don’t bring my daughter into this, imp.”  He knew better than anyone the soft spot Rumpelstiltskin harbored for Grace, and that it was concern for the girl that had him lashing out.  “But you have to remember, it was _you_ who sent me to the Winter Palace in the first place to barter for the Queen’s befuddlement potion.  You should’ve gone yourself!”

 

Belle’s eyes were wide as she poked her head over the railing.  Befuddlement potion?  She jumped slightly as the two men turned their gazes her way.  “Come on in, dearie,” the sorcerer intoned, beckoning her to enter, his tone gentle compared to the one he’d used on the man who’d come to see him.  She gave him a wide berth, though he looked harmless enough.  He was dressed in the height of fashion in leather breeches, knee boots and a violet silk shirt.  It threw her for a moment however to notice the emerald waistcoat and citrine frock coat.  What would make the man dress in such garish colors?

 

“Now I’m going to have to spend the afternoon cajoling Regina to return your worthless heart,” Rumpelstiltskin drawled in disgust as he took his chipped cup from Belle’s trembling fingers.  And it wouldn’t come cheap, either.  The queen knew all too well how valuable an asset the Mad Hatter was to the Dark One.  “Easy there, dearie.  You’re going to burn yourself.  Don’t worry about him, he won’t hurt you.”

 

“I didn’t think he would,” Belle answered, her gaze locking with her master’s.  “My nerves are simply on edge from all the yelling.  Sensitive ears, y’know.”

 

“Ooooh, I like her,” Jefferson said to the imp as he rounded the table to take Belle’s hand, bowing low as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.  “And who might you be, precious?”

 

Belle giggled and Rumpelstiltskin grabbed her wrist, jerking her hand out of the hatter’s grasp.  “Stop slobbering all over my maid, hatter,” he snarled.

 

Jefferson’s light grey eyes were alight with mischief.  “Maid, did you say?  I could use a maid to come in every now and then to clean up the cottage.  Are you available on Thursdays?”

 

“Um…” Belle stalled, searching for something to say so as not to offend her master’s guest.

 

“No! She is not,” Rumpelstiltskin growled around the rim of his cup as he caressed the sensitive flesh of Belle’s wrist with his thumb.  He looked down, following the hatter’s line of sight and dropped her hand as if he’d been burned, quickly rubbing his hand against the side of his trousers.  “She’s _my_ maid.  She’ll not be traipsing through the forest to your hovel to give it a quick dusting.  Belle, meet Jefferson, an associate of mine.  Jefferson, Belle.”

 

Belle fought off the rosy blush that settled in her cheeks at his touch and set about serving him the warm scones she’d baked that afternoon.  “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Jefferson.”

 

“Enchanted, my darling girl,” he purred with a decidedly wicked grin and a waggle of his eyebrows.  Rumpelstiltskin stepped down hard on the hatter’s instep, producing a loud yowl.  He leaned against the table to rub at his foot.  “She’s a bit too lovely to be a maid.  Where did you get her?” Jefferson asked as he added an unhealthy amount of sugar to his tea.  “Does she have a sister, perchance?”

 

Belle shook her head, chuckling at the man.  “No, I’m afraid I don’t, and Rumpelstiltskin was kind enough to save my kingdom from ogres in exchange for my servitude.  It was a rather small price to pay for his generosity.”

 

Jefferson choked on his tea.  “Generous?” he snorted.  “Not a word associated with the Dark One on a daily basis.”

 

“Don’t speak of my master in such a way,” she hissed, moving the plate of scones out of Jefferson’s reach as punishment for his rudeness.  “He’s a good man.”

 

The Dark One tittered a laugh as he watched his little maid put the hatter in his place.  Her defense of his character made a warmth spread through his chest, a feeling for which he was quite unaccustomed and he was sure he’d spend a good hour at his wheel that evening examining it further.  “Belle, dearie, play nice, now.”

 

Jefferson arched a brow as his friend smiled at the little maid.   _Smiled!_  Not the condescending smirk that usually adorned his mouth, but an actual smile.  His mouth curved up into a deliciously devilish smile as he saw just what was happening before him.   _The Dark One is smitten!_ He was damn near ready to dance a jig.   _Fun!!_  But just to make certain he wasn’t mistaken, he was willing to put it to the test.

He sidled between the two and he could feel the imp’s displeasure as if it were a tangible thing.  “So, darling girl,” he said with his most charming smile as he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm.  “Are you quite happy here at the Dark Castle?”

 

Belle regarded the man warily as he led her to the settee Rumpelstiltskin had conjured for her so she could spend the afternoons reading in the tower library while he worked on his potions.  “Ah…yes.  Yes, I’m quite happy,” she assured him, sneaking a glance in her master’s direction as a blush warmed her cheeks.

 

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t look at all happy that his friend was monopolizing all her time.  This was their time.  Afternoon tea was her favorite time of day, the one time it seemed her master would relax enough to have a civilized conversation with her.  She was becoming more comfortable in his presence as he slowly let her see behind his mask and this man was simply ruining her afternoon.

 

The hatter sipped his tea, arching a querulous brow.  “He treats you well, then?  No nasty pranks and such?”

 

“Jefferson,” the sorcerer said in a deceptively soft tone.

 

“What?  I’m merely curious,” he replied in the most innocent tone he could muster.

 

“There have been several small incidents, but I’ve found them quite amusing.  I don’t think Rumpelstiltskin is the type to damage his toys,” Belle replied sweetly in a teasing lilt as she peeked at her master through her thick lashes.

 

Jefferson stuffed a scone into his mouth to keep from chortling.   _Merciful gods!! It’s worse than I imagined.  The girl is openly flirting with the Dark One._ He pinched himself to make sure he hadn’t fallen down the wrong portal and landed in some bizarre parallel universe.

 

The sorcerer tittered another giggle, setting his cup on the tray and moving to take her hand as he helped her rise.  “Indeed not.  Now why don’t you run along, dearie, and see to dinner.  Perhaps if you pay extra care to it today, it won’t burn.”

 

Belle pursed her lips as she came to a halt at the top of the stairs.  “And perhaps if you were a little nicer I might bake some of those peach tarts you fancy so much.”

 

Jefferson’s mouth gaped like a fish.   _He’s flirting back!!_  He fanned himself as his head ping ponged back and forth between them.  He even glanced down at the tea in his cup wondering if they’d somehow gotten a hold of some of his special blend.

 

“How about we make a deal?” the imp asked, an avaricious gleam in his eye.

 

Belle tilted her head to the side and bit her lip thoughtfully as she perused him.  It was never a good idea to make a deal with the Dark One, but considering how splendidly the last one turned out…

 

“What did you have in mind?”

 

Rumpelstiltskin tapped his chin with one long finger, making her wait.  Finally, “You make tarts and I’ll let you have tomorrow off to spend the day reading in the library,” he said with a casual flourish of his wrist, the cuffs of his cobalt shirt ruffling.

 

Belle smiled.  “How about…” she let her voice trail off for a moment, knowing how impatient he was.  He didn’t disappoint as the fingers of his right hand began to rub against his thumb.  “I make tarts and you take me to the village tomorrow.”

 

Jefferson snorted, causing the sorcerer to stiffen in affront.  How would it look if it got out that he had to make a deal to get his maid to make him a treat when he could simply order her to do it?  “Run along, dearie, and I’ll let you know soon of my decision.”

 

Belle nodded, a saucy smile on her lips.  “As you wish…master.  Good day to you, Mr. Jefferson,” she called over her shoulder as she began to descend the stairs, intent on preparing his dessert whether there was anything in it for her or not.

 

The hatter leaned back on the settee with a smug smile as he rested his ankle atop his leg and spread his arm across the cushions.  “Rumpel’s got a cr-ush,” he sing-songed.

 

The Dark One stared at him blankly.  “Rubbish!!”

 

“You do!”

 

“Do not!”

 

“Denial!” the hatter cast back.  “And I get a front row seat to see how long it is before she has you reading sonnets to her beneath her balcony.”

 

“Snails, hatter,” Rumpelstiltskin hissed darkly.

 

Jefferson gulped and zipped his lip closed.  “Fine, I won’t tease you.  Now about my heart?  How’re we going to get it back from Regina?” he asked, changing the subject.

 

“I don’t know, but we’d best be off,” the Dark One snarled, shaking his head at the man he claimed as friend.  “But I’m telling you now, hatter, if I miss dessert, you’re going home to Grace in a terrarium.  Maybe that will teach you there are just some things you don’t barter.”

 

Jefferson smirked.   _And maybe some friendships are worth it._  


End file.
